


The Mistakes of the Past

by GreenSocksXIII



Series: VLD Rare Pair Week Feb 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alfor as the Yellow Paladin of old, Also Coran's Grandpa and the my additional Paladin role- the Violet paladin, Anyways, Because it relies on some stuff that is certainly not canon compliant at all, Because really the man wore way too much yellow for him not to be the Yellow Paladin, But please don't let that turn you off the fic, F/M, Gen, However I just finally got my invite for AO3 today, I always enjoy evil characters who can be redeemed, I wrote this in like 2 days for the VLD Rare Pair Week on Tumblr, Its kinda really Zarkon (and Shiro to an extent) oriented, Let's have some angst, M/M, Prep for lots of OC's but they don't really play a vocal role in the fic, Since I managed to binge watch season 1 and 2, So I'm getting the couple of days work that i've already posted on my Tumblr moved over here, So now everyone gets to suffer, This fic is also AU, Zarkon as the Black Paladin of old, and the other OCs that fill the Red Green Blue Paladin's roles, enjoy the angst ridden backstory i've given Zarkon, namely the mention of my OC, now I don't have anything to watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSocksXIII/pseuds/GreenSocksXIII
Summary: [Time. Time meant nothing in the Metaphysical Plane. A tick here could be quintants in the real world, a quintant here only ticks in the real world. The movement of time in this plane was constantly changing as if in response to a higher power’s whims. So it certainly comes as a surprise to both Zarkon and the new Black Paladin when time suddenly stops in the midst of their final battle.]Or an AU where Zarkon's past is laid bare to the new Black Paladin during the end of Season 2's finale, and they manage to find common ground. In which Shiro is subjected to Zarkon's "dying" mind waxing poetic about his former fellow Paladins, and angst lots of angst. Shiro DID NOT sign up for this.Alternatively, the Black Lion is a meddling brat who doesn't want to let go of her babies. But don't don't tell her I said that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just spent the all of today working on this evil little thing for the VLD rare pair week prompt Past/Present. Ugh kill me, I can’t even begin to handle the neck ache I have now. Also get ready to get wrekt by some serious black paladin Zarkon angst. I cried a little bit writing this thing. Either way, prepare yourselves for quite a few OCs. They aren’t all that prevalent, and also know that this is kind of my little AU of the series cannon. There are some explanations at the end of the work, for anyone wanting to know more about this fic or the OCs in it.

_Memories are jagged, aching, piercing, pretty little things. They never let you go, never let you rest. Shuffling in the darkest corners of your mind. Until, yet again, they drag themselves to the forefront. Behind your eyelids, they clamor for attention. Recognition._

* * *

 

**Black**

Time. Time meant nothing in the Metaphysical Plane. A tick here could be quintants in the real world, a quintant here only ticks in the real world. The movement of time in this plane was constantly changing as if in response to a higher power’s whims. So it certainly comes as a surprise to both Zarkon and the new Black Paladin when time suddenly stops in the midst of their final battle. They are frozen in time, and so is the world around them. The Black Paladin’s metal hand is ablaze, the wonders of Galran technology corrupted by Druidic magic, is pressed partially into Zarkon’s chest. Yet Zarkon feels nothing, no pain, no rage, no all-consuming sorrow. It’s a feeling he has not experienced in the last 10,000 years. That’s when he notices the shock on the Black Paladin’s face. Had he spoken that aloud? No. A foreign feeling of confusion, bewilderment, and the faintest hint of sorrow? _No, empathy_. That voice, it was the Black Paladin’s voice and his emotions. Zarkon was left reeling for a moment before he sighed. It appeared that the Black lion had unfinished business with him, and would not be allowing the Black Paladin to end his miserable existence until it was taken care of.

_**NO.** _

The word resounded through both of their minds, a third presence joining their little mental club. There was a rush of feelings, disjointed and primal in their ferocity. Black. It was their lion at the heart of the maelstrom of emotions being thrown at them, her protective warmth cradling them both. It was something Zarkon had nearly forgotten the feeling of in his millennia of darkness. It tugged at something deep within him, a fondness laced with pain that marred the apathetic numbness he had been ensconced in before. He shoved the feeling away to the dismay and disappointment of both Black and her new Paladin respectfully. There was silence for an indeterminable amount of time, until a thread of concern lapped at the edges of his mind. Zarkon faintly registered it as coming from the Black Paladin before their minds were assaulted by the taste of sunshine and Altean flowers. The tastes coupled with the strong, sturdy, safe presence of something yellow. It glowed around them, as Zarkon came to a realization. This presence was Alfor, the memory of him at least. That’s when it began, quickly they were assaulted by thousands of memories. Quickly, they passed by the two Paladins, disjointed yet possessing a clarity and depth of understanding that could only belong to memories.

**Yellow**

No recording device could ever hope to capture the context that these memories relied upon. Alfor’s sorrow at the destruction of a city he and the Paladins were unable to stop. The sheer joy and relief as he held the infant Allura. Delight at making, as Alfor claimed, stuffy old Zarkon smile. Building Black and the other lions with Green. Being chosen by Yellow to become the first Yellow Paladin. Officiating Zarkon’s wedding. Holding Lotor. Making crowns of flowers for a young Allura and Lotor. Every memory Zarkon had of the Altean he called friend, called Brother, raced between them. The only memory missing, Zarkon noted with a deep well of relief was any pertaining to Alfor’s death at his hands. He knew he had been the one to do so, he knew Alfor’s blood had stained his hands literally and metaphorically. Yet he had no recollection of the actual event. It’s then as if his relief had broken open a dam, more memories flooded forth. Green Green whirled by them, the sunlight yellow that was Alfor dappling into green; like the sun shining down upon a forest. The memories of the Green Paladin rushed forth leaves dripping with vitality. Elari, the Green Paladin, was the Olkari who was responsible for much of the building of the Lions was an unstoppable force of science and growth in Zarkon’s mind. Memories of dragging her away from various late night projects. Catching her and Alfor pranking the Red Paladin. Whispers down dark hallways as she, Blue, and Violet comforted each other over failed missions. The memories continue to flow as Green flares into fiery scarlet flames as the Red Paladin takes the spotlight.

**Red**

Passion and untampered brashness were the defining characteristics of his youngest teammate fills the darkness of their shared mindscape. Ryssan just barely an adult by Altean standards, spry and fair as Altea’s two suns. His natural ruby hair had been the envy of the entire Altean system, of the Universe even. Rys and Blue’s constant arguments flits around them. Zarkon and Rys’ first mission together, nothing more than a simple cargo delivery, but still so infinitely precious. Comforting Rys after his first battle as a full-fledged Paladin. The hum of brotherly affection that he shared with Alfor growing and expanding to include Rys into their little “brotherly trio” as Alfor liked to call it. The ragging firestorm that is Ryssan roars around them before fading into black.

**Violet**

It only takes a moment for them to realize that the soft comforting blackness is lighting into violet. A muted sorrow swirls around them, the pain is old-very old. The Violet Paladin and her lion had been lost to them long, long before Zarkon had betrayed them all. The memories come then, a little slower more guarded. The pang of loss still cuts as deeply as the day they lost her. The guilt rises up, it was his fault, his mistake. Ispera stepping forward before the Violet lion, being chosen—Blue’s cheering echoes around the hangar bay. Ispera’s smile soft and sharp, as deadly and final as a black hole, her final threat as it morphs into a wide accepting grin as she gives Blue’s hand to him in marriage. He feels the rush of pride, the same as his memory self feels knowing she had finally deemed him capable of protecting her little sister— had accepted him as family. Her holding a newborn Lotor in her arms, his form small and delicate—her form fierce and protective. Her herding Alfor and Ryssan to their rooms after a long and stressful mission, as he did the same to Elari and Blue. The worry of seeing her in a healing pod after she risked herself to protect him on a mission that went to shit. That damn smirk as she made Ryssan pay up for that stupid swear jar—again. Then comes the worst memory, her and the Violet lion screams as they are knocked out of the wormhole by the druid’s blast. Pain slamming the entire team as their mental connection to the two shatters. Wild sleepless nights searching the cosmos for their missing sister, friend, teammate, family. A fruitless search, they never find them. Not even a trace. Forcing himself to explain to Lotor and Allura, who are young too young, that their Auntie was never coming back. The Funeral. Blue’s pain, the nights of weeping. Holding his broken Queen in his arms as she grieved deeply, so deeply, for her lost sister. He forces the memories away, there is nothing left but centuries of grief.

**Blue**

Grief that grows stronger as the cool sensation of water encases them. Zarkon shakes, begs to a long forgotten deity—No, please anything but this. He will shatter, if losing Ispera had been torture. Losing his Blue, his Queen, his Olana had destroyed him; not to mention the destruction it had wrought upon Altea and the universe since it was what drove him to the darkness. Blue rushes over him like the tides of Altea’s oceans that Olana was always fond of. The blue of her eyes swallow him whole as he meets her for the first time. Olana and Ispera bringing lunch to him, Alfor, Elari, and Ronan when they were too engrossed in building the lions. A rebellious young Coran being dragged out of his room by Olana, after he fought with his grandfather Ronan over some of the castle designs. Falling in love slowly and then all at once when he accidentally stumbles upon her singing Galran lullabies to an infant Allura. He still never managed to find out how she learned them. He never managed to learn a great many things about her. Olana glides across the floor of the Blue lion’s hangar, Altean melodies falling from her lips as she and her lion bond. Their bond was deep, the deepest out of their group.

Hundreds of dates pass before his eyes. Kisses stolen in corners of foreign and familiar palaces. Nights spent under the stars. Days upon beaches. With friends and with family. Their wedding. Ispera’s approval. Alfor’s terrible toasts. Ryssan drunkenly dancing upon the tables with Coran. Elari’s evil smirk as she and Ronan record the whole drunken debauchery. The feel of Olana’s lips. The glint of their wedding bands. Olana’s pregnancy. The coronation. Introducing her to his people. Their approval. Lotor’s birth. Alfor crying against his shoulder when they tell him he’s the godfather, because he is that much of a soft fool—though that’s why they love him. Lotor growing, playing with young Allura. Zarkon’s arm around Olana’s waist, Alfor and Queen Millara are across from them. They all share a smile. They are back in space, reunited again in hearts and minds. Battles, diplomacy, and all sorts of missions unfold around them. Zarkon is running out of time. It takes everything in him not to fall apart as the worst day of his life begins to unfold before their eyes.

It had been going so well, then the ambush. Quick flashes of fighting. The team forced to split up. Suddenly, her cry echoes across the battlefield. Her blood stains the slick rain soaked ground. His vision goes red, and before him his enemies are slaughtered, but not fast enough—never fast enough. His arms are wrapped around Olana dragging her into his lap as he collapses to the ground. There’s a massive hole in her torso, blood stains the white and blue of her armor. He’s sitting there holding her unresponsive body, and she’s cold so very cold in his arms. There’s a similar flash of pain from the other Black Paladin. A ghostly visage overlaps over his memory. The new blue Paladin is cradled in arms that do not belong to Zarkon. He is comatose, bruised, and bleeding in the new Black Paladin’s arms as he pulls him from the floor of the Castle of Lions. Then it is gone and the Zarkon of the past clings tighter to his dead heart as his head tips back and her roars, screams, wails. She is gone—gone like Ispera. This time there is no inkling of hope, no worn string of what if. The life he built with Olana is gone, spilt upon the ground of this godforsaken planet. The lions echo his pain, Blue and Black are the loudest. His throat is raw by the time Alfor manages to get them all back to the Castle. The memories start blurring, reflections of the hazy he fell into as his grasp on reality faded. There’s a funeral, again. Lotor’s chubby cheeks tear stained, Allura and Millara try so hard to comfort him just like Alfor tries to do for Zarkon. It’s no use, the pain consumes him. It’s no surprise when that witch Haggar comes to him, with Olana’s face no less, and offers him a way to stop the pain; he doesn’t hesitate to accept. She lied. There is pain. There is corrupted quintessence pouring into him. Black cries out for him, tries to come and save him. It is too late. What he remembers of the 10,000 years after is minimal, and never through his own eyes. But that has changed now. Somehow, Black and her new Paladin has broken him free from his prison. The blue and the memories trickle away, and the metaphysical plane returns to its normal appearance.

**White**

There’s a jarring jolt of foreign pain and deep empathy coming from the other Paladin. His human eyes are wet with tears. Zarkon sends what little thanks his scrapped raw soul can offer. Determination begins to prod at the edges of his mind, and he brings his vision back to the Paladin before him. _**Shiro.** _ Black murmurs to him, his name. Zarkon sees a spark within Shiro’s eyes, before he is swept up in memories that do not belong to him.Violet eyes look up at him, **Red** — _Keith_ , passionate and unbowed by the weight of their situation. **Yellow** — _Hunk_ , grins down at him a plate of odd food engineered with meticulous care. Before him is an array of foreign and familiar foods turned into something new. Something that screams care and safety rises from this Paladin. **Green** — _Pidge/Katie_ , glows softly in his arms her eyes tired yet filled with an unflinching determination as her brain unravels technology before her like a puzzle.Pink—Allura, stands before him directing their new allies looking like the Queen he always told Alfor she would become. **Orange** — _Coran_ , the near spitting image of his grandfather Ronan flits about bringing strength and smiles to the team. There’s an odd questioning pause before, a tentative color appears. **Violet** — _Elaine_ , a woman older than Shiro but just barely. She is bent over a table that is covered in maps, objects, and papers that from what Zarkon can tell appear to be notes and other miscellaneous items from various planets. A historian, is what Shiro sends to him in response to his soft confusion. Zarkon nods in approval—yes, if Ispera and her lion were here they’d agree. A perfect fit for their color, their place in this new team.Then he is drowning in **Blue** — _Lance_ , his blue eyes looking up in awe at the few words of praise from Shiro. This is the same boy from the memory Shiro had inadvertently shown him earlier.

Zarkon latches onto this, he knows the feelings this memory is projecting to him. A memory comes to him from Shiro. Haggar in a demented mockery of Shiro, strangling the real one. Zarkon forces this memory to fit his message. The memory changes, now it is a demented Shiro with his hand wrapped around Lance’s throat. Before Zarkon can convey his full message, Shiro shoves the memory away from them. He would apologize but he notices that time is beginning to resume, by the fact that Shiro’s hand is starting to slowly sink into his chest. He stares intently at the Black Paladin. He has requests to make of this boy. Now that Zarkon is assured of his own demise. He brings forth the memory of Ispera and the Violet Lion, the sixth and final piece of Voltron. Find them he pleads; no longer can he continue the search they had abandoned millennia ago. His failure had always haunted him, perhaps this new Paladin could redeem some portion of him by finding closure for Coran and Allura. He receives an acceptance from Shiro in this regard. He presses another matter towards the boy. An apology, he offers what he can, and asks for it to be given to the others as well. An apology for not being strong enough to stop Haggar, for giving in. For the wonton destruction he has caused, for the loss of Altea and every other planet and species his reign has destroyed. For Shiro’s pain, for forcing these children into becoming adults ahead of their time. He receives in turn a promise to relay these apologies and a soft hesitating pained forgiveness. Zarkon presses his frayed thanks back to the other in return.

Zarkon’s mind goes hazy for a moment, and he knows something important has happened to his body in the real world. That his time is ending here and in the real world. Shock slams into him at the realization that Lotor would be summoned. He would take the throne. He would be alone. Subject to Haggar’s scheme. Unknowing of the dangers. Calm washes over him as Shiro softens his panic with a steadfast promise to keep his son safe. Zarkon relaxes. The hand is nearly fully in his chest. Zarkon frowns as a thought of Lance and Shiro swims to the forefront of his mind. He had seen the love beginning to bloom between the two. He pulls the warped memory from before back in front of them to be seen and understood. Shock and anger pulse from Shiro. Zarkon calms him with a thought. Listen. He sees it. Shiro sees it. The love between the Black and Blue Paladins. Shiro radiates a hesitant acceptance of this. Zarkon feels more than sees that he is out of time, as the world begins to fully move again. He had so much more to tell this Paladin, more apologies to give. He settles on a warning.

“Do not make my mistakes, Paladin.” He says as he sends Shiro images of him holding Olana’s body. The pain tears at both of them, but Zarkon soothes it with a rush of every memory of Olana saying I love you. “Know this Black Paladin, for all my pain. It was worth it.” He knows Shiro knows the truth of his words. Darkness encroaches his vision, Shiro’s hand is near his heart. He will die on this plane, and as he told Shiro that first time, he will die in the real world to. He finds he is not as scared as he has believed he would be. As he fades to black, his vision is consumed by the image of his team, his family, his pride. Zarkon falls with a smile. He doesn’t feel the Black Paladin tear his hand from his chest only centimeters away from a fatal blow.

Neither of them see the end of the battle in the real world. Black had guided both of their bodies from the moment Shiro entered the Metaphysical world to retrieve the black Bayard, to the moment the fight had been fully won, and Shiro’s team began to call for their leader who was not in her cockpit. That was alright though, because she had managed to finally wrestle her Paladin from Haggar’s control; and now her new Paladin had to make an important journey. To find the lost Paladin and the final piece of Voltron, the Violet Lion.

The pride would be fine until he returned.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I owe you awesome people who may or may not have read this some explanations. First off, from what I’ve gathered. Canon has it that Zarkon, Alfor, and Coran’s grandfather built the lions and/or the Castle of Lions. This apparently takes place roughly 600 years before Zarkon tried to take over the universe like a jerk. I accept this as cannon in my AU, except I added an Olkari woman as the Green Paladin and together the four of them built the lions and the castle. Now the whole sentient lion robot part was kinda the Green Paladin’s fault. She did some stuff in this AU that led to the sentience. And of course, they made 6 lions, not the canon 5. Now my AU has it that the druids were kinda the original bad guys, and a blast from Haggar during one of their battles as paladins, led to the loss of the 6th paladin and her lion. They are somewhere, I still haven’t even decided where or what happened to them. In this AU Zarkon marries his blue paladin and their only child is Lotor he is slightly younger than Allura. Now on to the end of my fic. In my AU everything that happened in the season 2 finale happened. However instead of Shiro simply grabbing the Black Bayard when he and the black lion dashed into the metaphysical plane, he was stuck there. His body however was not, and Black (because she is a highly meddling brat of a lion) played puppeteer with Zarkon and Shiro’s body even going so far as to use their voices. Don’t blame her she just can’t stop loving her poor babies. And that’s kinda the basics of this fic. So thank you for reading the fic and this lovely, and terribly long and convoluted explanation of my fic!


End file.
